


Craving (that only you can satisfy)

by evanelric



Series: Shimadacest Week 2K17 [3]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blindfolds, Bondage, Bottom Hanzo Shimada, Consensual Non-Consent, Consensual Violence, Humiliation kink, Kidnapping Roleplay, M/M, Shimadacest Week, Sibling Incest, Subspace, Top Genji Shimada, Verbal Humiliation, Wax Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-03
Updated: 2017-01-03
Packaged: 2018-09-10 17:15:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8925592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evanelric/pseuds/evanelric
Summary: “Whatever they offered, I can outdo. Who hired you?”

  The low chuckle this garners makes him frown, and the fingers that grip his jaw nearly bruisingly hard and shake his head gently from side to side make him reassess the likelihood of escape.
“Oh, that’s adorable. You think that if I were the sort to trade my allegiance so easily that I’d be the sort of person chosen to go after the Shimada heir? Please. Don’t insult me.” The voice hardens toward the end of that, and it’s almost enough of a warning for Hanzo to brace for the hand to release his chin and strike him back-handed across the cheek. “You’re here because I’ve got a job to do, and you’re not going anywhere until that job is done. Is that understood?”





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DirtyHand](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DirtyHand/gifts).



> Take care and read the tags. Here there be dragons.
> 
> For Day 3 of Shimadacest Week: Secrets / Late Night Rendezvous

Hanzo leaps to the overhang and immediately falls into a crouch, pressing his back to the wall of the next story, trying to calm his labored breathing and listen for sounds of pursuit. He thought he’d be safe sneaking out, had taken special care to dress inconspicuously and check for tails as he left the estate, but he’d been sorely mistaken.

No sooner had he gotten out of shouting distance of Shimada Castle then someone had attempted to tackle him from a darkened alleyway. He’d taken to the rooftops then, hopeful that perhaps he’d be able to use his knowledge of the area to his advantage. Hope didn’t mean he had to be stupid about it, though.

He’d kept moving, swiftly and silently, always on the alert for his attacker, and every time he thought he’d lost them he’d hear the tell-tale click of footsteps on the tiles of whatever space he’d most recently vacated. His legs were beginning to ache from all the running and leaping, and the panic was making his breath burn in his lungs far sooner than normal. He had to lose his tail, and quickly, or he’d be caught simply by virtue of exhaustion.

He rises from his crouch, preparing to spring to the next roof, when he hears movement on the tiles above him. He makes the jump anyway, hoping to at least have the larger roof space to work with, when a body collides with his in mid-air, knocking the breath from his lungs and allowing them to bear him to the ground below, forcing out what little oxygen had remained in his body.

Hanzo tries to force his body to move, to twist out from under his assailant, but before he can do more than brace his palms on the ground the man, he can tell that much now, has him. He gets an arm around Hanzo’s throat, gripping their opposite arm to press his throat into the crook of their elbow, cutting off the circulation to his already oxygen-depleted body. He bucks, trying to throw the man off, but the grip is firm, and Hanzo slips into unconsciousness.

###

The next thing Hanzo knows is sudden shocking cold and wet. He gasps awake, spluttering at the liquid running down his face. He blinks and tries to wipe it away, only to realize that his eyes are covered, he’s naked, his hands are bound above his head, and he’s restrained to a horizontal surface with straps around his ankles. And if he’d had liquid (probably water. _Hopefully_ water.) thrown on him then his captor is very close, and now is not the time to test the strength of his bonds when he doesn’t know where he is or if there is anyone else present. Too many unknowns to risk it. 

“It’s nice to see my intel was correct. I’d say welcome, but I don’t think it’s appropriate given the circumstances.” The voice comes from somewhere past his feet and slightly right, and the sound doesn’t echo, which means the room was either treated for acoustics, or isn’t the typical sparsely furnished holding/torture chamber. He guesses his assailant to be a young man from the timbre, and perhaps a little cocky from the tone. Someone used to getting his way. Which means that either he was very good at his job, or just good enough that Hanzo might be able to use it to his advantage.

A metallic clang indicates something being set down- probably the bucket that had held the water- and then Hanzo feels fingertips trailing up along his right foot to his leg, all the way up his body until he feels the backs of those same fingers caress his jaw.

“My employer had warned me of your combat skills and tendencies, but somehow neglected to mention just how _pretty_ you are. My contract didn’t specify the condition you be returned in, and you were laughably easy to capture, so it seems we have some time to kill. I wonder what we can do to pass it?” The voice is thick with amusement, complementing the fingers possessively stroking Hanzo’s jaw. He wants to bite them off. He still doesn’t know enough about his surroundings to risk it.

“Whatever they offered, I can outdo. Who hired you?” Hanzo’s voice is slightly raspy from the pressure on his throat earlier, but still steady and confident. He’s been trained to deal with being kidnapped since he was old enough to understand what the word meant. This isn’t even the first time it’s happened, and certainly not the worst circumstances. He’s reasonably sure he can still find a way out of this, and it might even not end in the death of whatever fool managed to catch him at a disadvantage.

The low chuckle this garners makes him frown, and the fingers that grip his jaw nearly bruisingly hard and shake his head gently from side to side make him reassess the likelihood of escape.

“Oh, that’s adorable. You think that if I were the sort to trade my allegiance so easily that I’d be the sort of person chosen to go after the Shimada heir? Please. Don’t insult me.” The voice hardens toward the end of that, and it’s almost enough of a warning for Hanzo to brace for the hand to release his chin and strike him back-handed across the cheek. “You’re here because I’ve got a job to do, and you’re not going _anywhere_ until that job is done. Is that understood?”

Hanzo resists the urge to spit the blood tinging his saliva at what is undoubtedly a sneering face, and instead swallows, probing the inside of his cheek with his tongue while he tries to decide on an answer that is suitably belligerent without flat-out antagonizing his captor. A sudden blow to his other cheek lets him know that that was the wrong course of action. The hand returns, fingers digging into his throbbing cheeks and he can feel hot breath on his face as the voice returns, low and heated.

“I said. Is. That. Understood?”

It takes all the strength Hanzo has to grunt out a terse _yes_ , to not strain at his bonds and spit in his captor’s face and fight for all he’s worth to get free of this situation. His pride demands he escape, but logically he knows the odds are stacked almost infinitely against him. He clenches his hands, nails cutting into his palms as the unknown man pats him condescendingly on the cheek.

“Good boy! Knew you’d see things my way.” Hanzo can almost see the smug grin that accompanies those words and barely holds back a snarl. A sudden clap causes him to jump, and he does scowl, then. The only reason for it had to be to startle him. “Now that we’ve got that out of the way, what shall we do with our evening, hm?”

The fingers return, tracing along his hairline and down the shell of his ear through the blindfold, over his neck and down his chest, nail catching almost absently on his nipple as it passes. Hanzo doesn’t think that anything this man is doing isn’t carefully calculated, though. The fingertips roll up just slightly, soft pressure giving way to the rasp of short nails through the hair below his navel, stopping just short of his cock before detouring around and dragging flat against his balls. Hanzo gasps and can’t help the way his body arches into the sensation.

“Well,” and the smirk in the man’s voice this time is almost thick enough for Hanzo to taste, “I had a few ideas, and it looks like I wasn’t the only one!” A single finger traces up the underside of Hanzo’s cock, which he realizes is already half-hard. The man chuckles.

“If I’d known it would be so easy to compromise you I’d have just beaten the shit out of you before instead of jumping off a roof. It would’ve been a lot more satisfying watching that beautiful skin of yours bleed and bruise.” Nails rake searing lines of heat down Hanzo’s chest, and he gasps and curves his spine, chasing the sensation. The man _tsks_ before the nails return, dragging up the inside of Hanzo’s thigh, causing his hips to jerk.

“I wonder if the Shimada elders know their precious heir is actually a slut? How much do you think I could get if I were to wreck you on this table and take photos? How much would the Shimadas pay to suppress footage of you covered in marks and cum, with your cock still hard and your lip swollen from biting it?” Hanzo hadn’t even realized he was biting his lip, but the words make him dig his teeth in in an attempt to hold back a whimper. There’s nothing to be done about the way his cock twitches, though, and the breathy laugh he hears lets him know it didn’t go unnoticed.

“Or maybe you’d like that, huh? Maybe I should just leave you trussed up and blindfolded in front of the gate, so anyone who comes by can just use you as they please. Would you like that?” The words are punctuated by a hand loosely gripping his cock, providing just enough pressure to be noticed, but not to give any satisfaction. The fingertip that traces over the head is enough for Hanzo to realize he’s leaking just from the filthy words the stranger is saying almost nonchalantly. His breath is coming in pants, and the heat suffusing his face from the earlier blows has spread down his neck to his chest.

The man removes his hand, letting his fingertips drag over Hanzo’s skin as he withdraws, eliciting a shudder. He’s so over-sensitized already, his breathing is unsteady and he’s sure if he wasn’t blindfolded his vision would be fading out. He’s hyper aware of the scent of sweat and vanilla in the air, of the sensation of the fabric under his body, and the leather of the cuffs around his wrists and ankles. He strains his hearing, trying to locate where the man has gone, hears a soft click and hiss, but can’t place the sounds in the fog that’s beginning to suffuse his mind.

The hand returns, presses gently down on the center of his chest, and Hanzo whimpers at the contact, lifts a knee a few bare centimeters to feel the edges of the cuff dig in at his ankle. The hand soothes along the edges of his hairline, coming to cup his cheek and he can’t help but press into it.

“There, there,” the voice croons. “I’ve got you.” His hearing goes in and out, hypersensitive to the sounds of the man’s voice, and swimming murkily at everything else. He’s not sure what’s happening. Maybe there was something in the water? Was it water? His whole body feels hot, and he strains at his bonds, not to loosen them, but just to feel the shifts in his muscles.

“I know what you need. You just need to lay still for me. You can manage that, can’t you?” Hanzo couldn’t vocalize an answer even if he wanted to, so he settles for shakily nodding his head, trying his best to contain himself. A hand comes up to cup his shoulder, and he gasps and arches off the table as burning spots of warmth dot his torso, pooling and hardening to spots of hypersensitivity and taut flesh. He lets out a cry, and the voice returns.

“That’s it. That’s what you need, isn’t it?” More sparks of heat cross his chest. One hits just below his nipple and he throws his head back, pulling tightly on the cuffs as he lets out a moan. The drops continue until Hanzo can’t even discern the small pauses between each trail of wax anymore, until his whole body feels like it’s on fire and aching, and he’s panting through the heat and pleasure spiraling through him.

Hanzo feels one of his legs being uncuffed, and even the sensation of those hands massaging the skin feels decadent. He strains again, overwhelmed by sensations, when the other leg is given the same treatment and his feet pushed up the table. Gravity pulls his knees out to the sides, but the hands on his ankles and a firm “Stay” are enough for him to keep his feet in place.

He lets out a soft sound of disappointment when the hands leave, but soon enough there’s the warmth of a body between his splayed legs. One hand comes to rest on his knee and the other traces a knuckle down his cock and over his balls before uncurling to press a lubed finger in a slow circle around his hole. Hanzo tries to press into the touch with his newfound leverage, but the other hand slides down his thigh to press into his pelvis, anchoring him to the table. The finger continues its gentle motions, circling before pressing lightly, and Hanzo wants so much, wants this finger and more, and can’t remember enough words to ask for it, trying to shift his hips as much as possible with the hand holding him in place.

When the finger breaches him he throws his head back and manages to lift a few centimeters off the table before the unrelenting force of the hand presses him back down, and he hears a soft “Such an eager slut,” but can’t string together the meaning. He pulls at the cuffs around his wrists in desperation when a second finger is added, as they work in and out of him, spreading him open, and by the third finger he’s nearly mindless with want.

Every breath is a whimper, his hips abortively trying to rock into the sensation until the fingers _crook_ and his body lights up like a live-wire. The fingers keep thrusting, pressing again and again at that spot inside him and Hanzo can feel a coiling tightness in his gut that bursts, and he cries out, but it’s not enough. He whines, trying to work himself harder on the fingers, to get the other hand to move, but they stop entirely and he freezes, afraid he’s done something wrong. The hand on his stomach rubs soothingly.

“You’re alright. I’m still here. Just hold tight a second.” Hanzo stills, not daring to move, every scant bit of focus he can muster centered on the hand as it glides up to grasp one of his legs at the back of the knee, before he feels the blunt press of something else against his hole. The other hand comes up to grasp his other knee, and he’s undone by the pressure of the cock penetrating him. He angles his hips as the hands take some of his weight, lifting his lower back off the table as the cock bottoms out and he feels the other man press against his ass. He feels so _full_ , so right, and things are almost perfect, if the man would just _move_. And it’s like he read Hanzo’s mind, because he withdraws then, slowly and almost completely, before slamming back in, forcing a gasp from Hanzo.

The man keeps up the slow, brutal pace, and Hanzo wants to weep, because it’s so good, but it’s not enough. He wants to wrap his legs around the other man and urge him on, but his limbs won’t listen to him, as if the fingers pressing into the meat of the thighs have overridden his control of his own body.

“You’re being so good for me right now.” The man is panting now too, and the praise draws another cry from Hanzo. “Look at how desperate you are for my cock.” The man speeds up his pace, and Hanzo is so close, he’s _so close_ , if this just keeps on, and then the man _stops_ , balls deep in Hanzo, and just sits there a moment, until Hanzo writhes, trying to get some friction.

The man hitches one of Hanzo’s legs up over his shoulder and leans forward to twist one of Hanzo’s nipples. Hanzo’s entire body spasms, and the hand twists the other nipple as the man’s hips begin to move again in slow, deep thrusts. Hanzo is sobbing now, hands clenching and unclenching on nothing.

“I told you I knew what you needed, didn’t I? You just needed someone to fuck you into your place. On your back with your legs spread, like the slut you are.” The man’s hips speed up and he shifts his grip on Hanzo, adjusting the angle so he keeps hitting that spot that makes everything spark bright and vanilla-scented. “But you’re my slut, aren’t you, _anija_.”

Genji grips Hanzo’s cock, stripping it once, twice, before Hanzo tenses and comes, splattering his own chest and chin with come. A few more thrusts has him spilling inside Hanzo as well as he thrusts through his brother’s orgasm.

Genji holds himself there a moment, coming down from the high. Once his breathing is mostly normal he pulls out, even though the action draws a soft broken noise from Hanzo. He lowers Hanzo’s legs carefully to the table before crawling up Hanzo’s body to undo the cuffs, straddling Hanzo’s torso, calves pressed to his ribs to maintain contact between them. Genji massages each wrist gently, making sure the circulation wasn’t affected, before slowly and gently rotating each arm one at a time to rest on Hanzo’s chest.

Once that’s done he slings a leg over Hanzo, sliding down to fit himself along Hanzo’s side, rolling Hanzo to face him and gathering him up to his chest, gently stroking his hair without disturbing the blindfold. Hanzo curls into him, his breathing still shaky and stuttered, tremors wracking his frame. Genji presses Hanzo’s forehead against his chest.

“Breath with me, anija. Feel it? Breath in with me, and hold it, and then out.” Genji takes deep, fortifying breaths, and slowly Hanzo’s even out to match it, until the shaking abates as well. He stays curled into Genji, though, so Genji keeps stroking his hair, careful not to tug the cloth tied around his eyes, holding Hanzo tightly with the other arm until Hanzo shifts and presses a hand to Genji’s chest. Genji holds him a little tighter and presses a kiss to the top of his head.

“Back with us, then?” Hanzo tries to speak, but it comes out as a rasp, and Genji twists his torso to grab a bottle of water off the table next to the bed. He transfers it to the arm holding Hanzo and uses his free hand to twist the cap off. “Can you manage, or do you want me to?” Hanzo twists just enough to sit part way up, following Genji’s torso up his arm to his wrist, pulling gently with his fingertips. Genji grabs the bottle, cradling the cap with his pinky, and supports Hanzo’s head with his other hand before pouring a stream of water into Hanzo’s mouth. He lets Hanzo swallow his mouthful and pours for him twice more before Hanzo pushes the bottle away and curls back into Genji’s chest.

Genji recaps the bottle and drops it on the mattress behind him, where it promptly rolls off the edge to the floor with a loud, sloshy _clunk_. Hanzo doesn’t jump, though, which is a good sign. Genji keeps holding him until Hanzo speaks up, voice still hoarse.

“I’m here.”

Genji taps lightly on the back of Hanzo’s head, next to the knot of the blindfold.

“May I?” Hanzo bows his head in acquiescence, and Genji swiftly undoes the knot, holding Hanzo close to his chest as he pulls it off in an attempt to shield him from the worst of the light. Even so, Hanzo hisses and turns his face to where Genji’s ribs meets the mattress, and Genji lays the patterned yellow fabric across the bed behind Hanzo. A short moment later Hanzo lifts his head, still blinking muzzily, and Genji smiles down at him.

“Hey.” Hanzo looks up at him, pupils still dilated, but not the blown-out pure black they were before.

“Yo,” Hanzo returns cheekily, and that’s enough of a sign for Genji to roll them over and presses his mouth against his brother’s in a long, sweet kiss. Hanzo’s hands come up and tangle themselves in Genji’s hair, holding him close, but letting the kiss stay soft. When they break apart Genji presses his forehead to Hanzo’s, a small smile still gracing his lips.

“So I’m guessing that was a good plan, then? You liked it? Everything was good?” The hope is thick in Genji’s voice, but there’s a tinge of worry lacing through it as he absently picks at the bits of wax still dotting Hanzo’s chest. Hanzo ghosts a small kiss across his brother’s lips.

“It was perfect.”

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to DirtyHand for the beta. >;3 Surprise, dear!


End file.
